


take my hands, they'll understand

by princesscharmingx



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Nonbinary Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Nonbinary Character, Panic Attacks, fluff mostly, i rewrote it because i hate the first one now, lil bit of angst, rated T bc virgil says a no-no word, romantic if you squint but you don't have to squint very hard, tagged analogical but it's mostly platonic, virgil has anxiety bc duh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesscharmingx/pseuds/princesscharmingx
Summary: And take my hands, they’ll understandTake my heart, pull it apartAnd take my brain, or what remainsand throw it all awayVirgil's hands were covered in paint, too, and they sat back and stared at them with an odd sense of detachment. Their head felt floaty, empty. They were reminded by that one song by Mother Mother, the lyrics of which they had never really understood. They think maybe now, in that moment, they understood, even just a little bit.(a rewrite of "the five steps to becoming yourself." the title is from "Body" by Mother Mother)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	take my hands, they'll understand

**Author's Note:**

> So before you read, keep in mind: this is a rewrite! If at any point you go "hmm, that sounds familiar," it's probably because it is. However, a lot of this is new content, because I did end up adding over 2000 words as well as rewriting all of the other ones. It's been nearly two years since I posted the original one, "the five steps to becoming yourself," and I wanted to redo it to sort of... show the progress I've made in the past two years. I did this in two sittings instead of working on my novel so please just take this work of procrastination and leave
> 
> (also, because this is a rewrite, I left out Janus and Remus because when this was originally written they didn't exist, so I saved myself the difficulty of adding them in and just Didn't)

Let’s paint a scene: Virgil laid on their back, staring at the ceiling, watching the fan tick by. It was hot inside the room, because it was wintertime and the sides liked to turn up the heat to mirror the fantasy weather Roman insisted on manifesting outside. Regardless of the heat, Virgil stubbornly insisted on keeping their hoodie on, much to the confusion of the others, but here was the thing.

Virgil had always felt claustrophobic in their own body, in a way that they had always attributed to anxiety—hah—but recently had started to think it was something else. After the other sides had essentially forced their name out of them, they liked using it, or other masculine-attributed nicknames, and it always made uncomfortable emotions slosh around inside their stomach. There’s a fancy name for it, because of course there was: dysphoria. They found it on a Tumblr forum, with a list of other words that Virgil didn’t care about. Sitting there, in the dark of their room, listening to the clock go  _ tick, tick _ and the fan give off a whirring sound in a pathetic attempt to cool Virgil off, Virgil came to their realization.  _ Oh. That’s what it’s called _ .

And it wasn’t that they were scared of the other sides. Of course. It’s just that whenever they thought about telling them, their head went fuzzy and heart pounded a beat faster and Virgil said to themself,  _ no, that’s okay, I’ll tell them tomorrow. _

So they kept it locked up inside, sheltered from rejection, pronouns and named found off of baby name websites fluttering inside like butterflies.

Virgil hated their name, of course. It was so…  _ gendered _ , and Virgil hated it. But Virgil kept it, regardless, because really, it was the only name they’d ever known. Other names just didn’t sit right, and  _ Virginia _ , the obvious “gender-bent” name just made them retch.

Virgil always felt like an unfortunate middle ground. Not female, not male; not feminine, not masculine. They felt comfortable in masculine clothing but not in a masculine body. They loved makeup and admired dresses, but hated long hair and didn’t really want a “curvier” body. And makeup on them wouldn’t look good anyway—sure, Roman was good at it, and they had the same face, but really Virgil was insistent it was the facial expression and the different way the two sides carried themselves that made the difference. Needless to say, Virgil was not the epitome of confidence. 

So Virgil made themself a deal—if one of the sides asked them about it, they’d reply honestly. But otherwise they’d keep it to themself, because it wasn’t a big deal. Really.

They’d never been good at lying to themself.

  
  


Virgil chewed at the inside of their mouth as they sat on the kitchen counter, half a bagel held in their hand, staring at it. They could hear the TV on in the living room, they knew Patton or Roman was in there, and there was something they had to ask the others, but they couldn’t quite work up the courage. The marble of the counter was cold, even through their sweatpants, something Virgil reveled in.

“Kiddo!” Patton said, and Virgil jumped, glancing up. Patton was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, and he flicked on the light switch. Virgil squinted his eyes, hissing instinctively. Patton chuckled. “What are you doing here, sitting all alone in the dark?”

“Bagel,” Virgil said, instead of answering properly, taking a bite to avoid further questioning, feeling their cheeks heat up, hoping desperately their foundation covered it. 

“I can see that,” Patton said, the friendly smile still playing on his face. “I just came in for a snack, too.” He moved into the kitchen, further, opening up the cabinets, eventually finding one of those bags of pre-popped popcorn. “Here we are. Do you want to come watch the movie with us?”

“Don’t you think my name is weird?” Virgil said, suddenly, even though they had half of the bite of the bagel left in their mouth. They swallowed it.

Patton blinked, shutting the cabinet and turning, leaning back against the counter. “I think it’s a great name,” he said, in a way Virgil knew was supposed to be encouraging. “It’s very… unique! And it sounds very mysterious.”

Virgil smiled, slightly, at Patton attempting to cheer them up. Their words were calculated, now, but they deliberately tried to make them seem casual. “It’s just… I feel like there are really no other male names—or, hell, even unisex names—that start with V, you know? Just seems like they’re unusual.”

“I think unusual is fun!” Patton said. “But I bet you we can find some. I’ll help you look if you come watch this movie with us!”

Virgil nodded, shoving the rest of their bagel into their mouth and hopping off the counter and following Patton into the living room, where he was, in fact, watching  _ Inside Out _ with Roman, who was currently crying over Bing Bong. Logan was there, too, curled up on one of the chairs reading a book, and he cast an absentminded glance up as Virgil entered, and then back down to his book.

Patton plunked down on the sofa and patted next to him, and pulled out his phone, and quickly typed in something. Virgil sat down beside him, slouching back against the couch. “We’ll get back to the movie in a sec, Roman—” Roman was still crying. “—But… okay, Virgil,” Virgil flinched a little bit. Patton didn’t notice. “What about—Vincent! And Victor. And Victor _ y _ ! That’s a fun one. See, there are more than just your name,” Patton said, smiling.

And he really was just trying to help, but those names didn’t fit at all, and Virgil didn’t know what the point of this was, anyway. “Oh, I guess you’re right,” Virgil said, with a not-very-convincing fake smile. Luckily, it was dark, and no one was looking at Virgil’s face, anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Van, Valentine… Valentine? Doesn’t that seem more of a girl’s name then a unisex name? It says it’s a unisex name, though…”

“Actually, Patton,” Logan said, breaking through his silence. “Valentine, as in the saint that inspired Valentine’s Day, was male, making the name more traditionally masculine than feminine; you’re just associating the colors and theme of Valentine’s Day with femininity.”

“Oops!” Patton giggled. He clicked off his phone. “Alrighty then, let’s continue watching this movie! Roman, are you alright?”

“He’s fine,” Virgil grumbled, and they felt a bad mood forming, swirling around their skull. They tampered it down. “He’s watched this movie fifteen times anyway.”

“Ex _ cuse _ me,” Roman said, sniffling dramatically. “I’ve watched this movie at  _ least _ thirty times, and each time, I feel like the death of Bing Bong just becomes inevitably more tragic. It’s the greatest cinematic death in animated film history.”

Virgil huffed, quietly. No one noticed, they thought—but then they glanced up at Logan, and noticed Logan staring directly at them. Virgil stiffened, and Logan’s eyes immediately flitted back away to his book. Virgil was definitely, completely and utterly being paranoid. There was no way Logan could know anything. But there was something about the way Logan analyzed Virgil’s eyes, in those two seconds, that felt like he knew everything.

  
  


Virgil was just mad that they were like this. Sure, they preferred they, them and their. They could just  _ say _ that, and, hell, Thomas had two close non-binary friends, the other sides wouldn’t care. Virgil wanted to narrow it down, to label it; but the labels they found terrified them by picking one in a way that felt uncomfortable. It was as if by picking one, they weren’t allowed to change it for the rest of their life, which,  _ no _ . They didn’t want that. 

They were scrolling through Tumblr, regardless, home to the largest collection of flags for the LGBTQ+ community known to date. There were so many, and honestly, it was so overwhelming. Shades of purple, green, white, black, yellow, and gray started to blend together in their vision, and they slammed their computer shut, closing their eyes and trying to sort out their thoughts, but their thoughts were drenched in colors, and they stood up. They needed a walk.

They ended up outside of Roman’s door, and tapped their fingers against the doorframe nervously before knocking.

Roman swung open the door, and behind them, a wide open field slowly fell apart and reassembled into Roman’s customary bedroom. “Welcome, fellow citizen!” he said dramatically. “What brings you to my royal palace?”

“Wasn’t that a field?” Virgil said dryly in response. “Not much of a field.”

“Any place I’m in is a palace,” Roman said, winking charmingly at Virgil. Virgil was not charmed. “Okay, okay, no fun today.”

“I just came to ask for some paint,” Virgil said. “I know you have a lot of craft supplies.”

Roman gestured to come in and retreated to the corner of his room. Virgil stepped a little closer, but still lingered hesitantly. Roman’s room always brought all sorts of emotions with it, not all of them wanted. “What colors do you want?” Roman called over his shoulder, and Virgil nervously wiped their hands against their pants. “Virgil?”

Virgil clenched their hands into fists and then back out again. _ The fear that he’ll recognize the colors is ridiculous,  _ they tried telling themself. It didn’t work. Instead, they tried rearranging their colors, stupidly. “Y-Yellow,” they started, trying to remember all the colors. “Yellow, green, purple, uh… black and white, probably, too.”

Roman gathered up tubes of paint and brought them to them. “Alright. I hope you have fun with your arts and crafts, Hot Topic.”

“Thanks,” Virgil said, sarcastically, grabbing them and almost immediately taking off to go head back to their room. 

Honestly, the following time was a blur. Virgil really couldn’t be sure if it was an hour or ten—maybe it was the paint fumes making things a little blurry. It was an abstract piece of art, of course: Virgil couldn’t paint realistically. Instead, they painted a piece of colors flowing and swirling across the page, each one an attempt to capture a thought in their head. Black for dysphoria, green for anxiety, white for femininity, yellow for hope. In the middle, sloppily, they painted a big  _ V _ in purple, and eventually sat back and examined it.

Their hands were covered in paint, too, and they sat back and stared at them with an odd sense of detachment, and their head felt floaty, empty. They were reminded suddenly of that one song by Mother Mother:

_ And take my hands, they’ll understand _

_ Take my heart, pull it apart _

_ And take my brain, or what remains _

_ and throw it all away _

They had never really understood that song, those lyrics. They think maybe now, in that moment, they understood, even just a little bit.

(Later, Virgil, with this sudden lack in judgement, put up the canvas in the living room to dry. Roman and Patton just made vague comments of  _ oh, it looks nice! _ which Virgil appreciated. But Logan, entering the room for dinner, had glanced up at the painting, and stared at it for a moment. Virgil had waited, sitting at the counter, trying not to look, bouncing their leg nervously. They twisted around their stool, and Logan glanced over at them, and they made eye contact again.

“Interesting use of color,” Logan had said, eventually, simply, and made his way over into the kitchen to help Patton with dinner.

Something inside Virgil had churned, anxious and disgusting and disgustingly  _ hopeful _ at that.)

  
  


Virgil faced the mirror with a certain sort of determination, and after staring at themself for a moment, felt perfectly stupid. “I look just like… Roman, or Patton,” Virgil muttered. “Mostly. So then why… ugh.” They shook their head, and instead focused on the variety of makeup they had scattered over the bathroom counter. They’d collected it, over the years, but all they really used was the black eyeshadow under their eyes.

That was done, of course, to hide the  _ actual _ dark circles under their eyes they had from staying up so late—insomnia was  _ fun _ —which Virgil supposed was counterproductive, but made them feel better regardless.

Virgil had watched quite a few makeup tutorials, but still only vaguely held onto the concepts of makeup in general. They fiddled with the supplies, rolling the mascara bottle back and forth in their hand, enjoying the light-heaviness of the makeup in their hands. “Alright,” they said, still talking to themself. The door was locked, they had made sure of it. They moved over just to check, despite checking three times previously. “Alright, we can do this,” they muttered.

The look ended up like this: flipping the eyeshadow to the lid, a thin layer of black shimmer, and just adding concealer to the shadows under their eyes. They didn’t bother with mascara—too scared of poking themself in the eye—but did add a wing of eyeliner. Another thin layer of blush across their cheeks, and then red-pink lip gloss.

“I look…” Virgil held their breath, studying their face in the mirror, and then released it, slumping over the sink. “Ridiculous. I look  _ fucking _ ridiculous.” 

But… they still kept it. They made a promise to themself, and held their breath again as they closed their eyes and sank out, and back into the living room. Roman was already there, on the sofa, who called out a noise of welcome and glanced up from their phone, and back down—and then back up again as he did a spit take. Virgil gritted their teeth. 

“Is that—” Roman’s mouth was open and his eyes were wide. He stood up, abandoning his phone on the chair and moving closer to Virgil, which they did  _ not _ appreciate. “Is that a makeup improvement I see? No, no, don’t duck your head, let me see you, you Hot Topic disaster—nay, not disaster. You look like when the galaxy first gained stars, glimmering—”

“What’s going on?” Patton giggled, hopping down the stairs, two at a time. “I think the galaxy always had stars, Roman.”

Virgil wanted nothing more than to rush back to their room. This was a bad idea. They dug their nails into the palms of their hands, feeling out the life lines and the love lines and whatever other lines there were. Virgil didn’t know how to read palms. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Roman said, spinning Virgil around to face Patton, and Patton’s eyes widened, a grin splitting his face. “A pleasant thing, for once! His makeup has been greatly improved, it no longer looks like he did it blindfolded.”  _ His. He.  _ Virgil grimaced, and cast Roman a look over their shoulder. “Don’t give me that look,  Prince Sulks-A-Lot. I’m giving you compliments here!”

They  _ were _ compliments. Virgil shouldn’t be mad at the wrong pronouns—how could they get mad if they didn’t tell the others what was going on? It didn’t make  _ sense _ , and Virgil’s never hated their irrationality more than they did right now.  _ Tell him _ , a voice whispered.  _ Tell him, right now _ .

“I—I just came down for food,” Virgil said, trying to keep their voice stable, and  _ not _ shaky. “Not an  _ interrogation _ ,” they continued, managing to stabilize their voice and also add some snark. Roman’s hands left their shoulders.

They slipped into the kitchen and grabbed the nearest thing he saw, blindly—an apple. They then walked past the others, trying their best not to run, too nervous to sink down. 

In the hallway, they ran into Logan. Logan stopped, and stared at them, not as open-mouthed and big-eyed as Patton and Roman, but instead a quiet sort of intensity, a far more unsettling look, like Logan was analyzing everything he saw. “Sorry,” Virgil mumbled, and tried to move around Logan. 

Logan caught his wrists. “Wait—”

Virgil didn’t wait for the rest of the sentence, and instead yanked their hands from Logan’s and ran past him, and didn’t stop until they got back to their room. They slammed the door behind them and sunk down to the ground, back against the wall, putting their head in between their knees. “Way to go, Virgil,” they muttered. “Can’t walk around the house without having a panic attack, what a way to live.”

_ They looked so surprised _ , a nasty little voice in Virgil’s mind said, snidely.  _ Like they didn’t know you cared what you looked like, like they expected you to just stay male and stay ugly _ .

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Virgil muttered, suddenly exhausted, running their fingers through their hair. “Shut up.”

  
  


Virgil managed to avoid the other sides for approximately four days, only sneaking into the kitchen to grab snacks in the dead of the night, spending most of their days sleeping or listening to music or podcasts,  _ something _ to replace the voice in their head.

It was on the fifth day that a rap sounded on their door. “Come in,” Virgil called, not being bothered to move. It was probably Roman or Patton.

Instead, when the door opened, Virgil was surprised to see it was Logan. They quickly shut their computer and moved it off their lap, shifted over to the edge of their bed, swinging their legs off of the edge, not bothering to stand up yet. “What are you doing here?” they said, and it came off more accusatory than they meant it to.

“I’m not in your room yet,” Logan replied, raising his eyebrows. “I’m still in the hallway. I’m waiting for an invitation into your room, which would be optimal, but I’m just here to ask one question and then I’ll be on my way.”

Virgil’s heart kicked up, a little bit, an anxious little  _ pitter-patter _ . “I—okay,” Virgil mumbled, scooting over on their bed. “You can come in.”

Logan made his way delicately into the room. It wasn’t very neat, Virgil knew, and Logan’s room was quite the opposite, organized and nicely made up, everything in its place. In that way, they were very different, but in a lot of ways they were a lot more similar than Virgil was with the other, more “right brain” sides. It also, unfortunately, also meant they could read each other a lot better, which Virgil did  _ not _ need right now.

“I’d just like to ask,” Logan began, trying to sound soft, but putting a little too much effort into his voice. “If… if there’s been something… troubling you, as of late.” Virgil’s bubble popped. “If that’s not too intrusive.” He adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit that Virgil has noticed he does.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Virgil said, instinctively defensive. “I’m not sure what you’re implying—”

“I’m not implying,” Logan said, simply. “I haven’t implied a thing. I was asking you, but maybe I should be asking different questions if you’re going to get this mad. Questions like…” Logan stared at Virgil’s computer. “If I went through your browser history, would I find a copious amount of unisex V-names? If I went through your bathroom drawers, would I find an excessive amount of makeup?”

“I—you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Virgil said, and they were trying their best to keep their voice from doing  _ the thing _ . They were shaking a little bit, not from anger, but from fear.

“Okay, I don’t,” Logan said, easily. “Then what would I find, Virgil, if I sorted through your brain, instead?” Logan’s eyes made their way back to Virgil’s. That was something unsettling about the sides—they all had different colored eyes. Logan’s were a piercing blue, Patton’s were a stormy blue-gray, Roman’s were a fiery red-brown, and Virgil’s were a deep violet. And in this moment, Logan’s blue eyes were piercing straight through them, and it was  _ painful _ . 

“Nothing good,” Virgil mumbled in late response. 

Logan nodded, then stood, and moved through the room. Virgil followed him with their eyes, and only bolted up when they realized where he was going. “Wait—” Logan opened Virgil’s wardrobe. Virgil flinched, and sat back down, wearily, body not liking standing up too fast after many days spent mostly sitting. “Logan…”

Logan ran his hand through the clothing. There were Virgil’s hoodies, sure, as well as t-shirts, sweatpants, and jeans; but Virgil also kept in there crop tops, skirts, dresses, anything they could sneak from Roman without Roman noticing.

“Crop tops,” Logan said, a slight note of distaste in his voice. “Those are… fine. Detrimental to the actual purpose of clothes, which is warmth, of course. Oh—where did you get the dress from, Virgil? I’ve never seen you wear that, it’s very pretty.” The word  _ pretty _ made something take root in Virgil’s stomach, made them flush. The dress in question was lovely shades of pastels: lilac, baby blue, and cream. It was something Virgil had seen and  _ craved _ , despite knowing they’d never actually wear it.

“Roman’s theater costume box,” Virgil mumbled, quietly, but they knew Logan heard it.

“Sensible,” Logan said. “A box of jewelry—jewelry? Oh, this is your makeup.” Logan continued talking, making little comments as he went through Virgil’s closet.

Virgil started panicking, breaths coming short. They weren’t sure why—Logan wasn’t doing anything that implied he thought the clothes were horrible, but it felt invasive, they wanted to say stop, why couldn’t they—why—

The bed creaked beside them, something they barely noticed. A hand touched Virgil on the shoulder, causing them to jump a little bit, then lean into the touch. “Can you breath out for me, Virgil?” Logan asked, calmly but comfortingly. Virgil realized they had been holding their breath, and they felt light-headed. Virgil let out a shuddering breath. “And back in.” Virgil sucked a breath in, and back out again, the hand on their shoulder working as a grounding point. “I apologize. I pushed too far. I am not here to judge, I just would like for you to be able to… to say what it is that is bugging you.”

Virgil, impulsively, shuffled over, closer to Logan, shrugging off the hand and instead pressing themself to Logan’s side. Logan stiffened, and then slowly relaxed, winding an awkward arm around them. “Bandaid, right?” Virgil said, quietly. “Just like my name. So… okay. I—I’m not a boy.”

“Trans?” Logan said, and sometimes the professional tone he always seemed to have put Virgil on edge, but here it really helped them to take the questions and put them into perspective.

“No,” Virgil said, after a moment, definitively. “I’m… I don’t  _ know _ , Logan—that’s why I haven’t told anyone yet, I almost feel like… I need to figure myself out, give myself a label, before I  _ deserve _ to be called by… by they and them pronouns.”

“You know that’s not true—”

“Yeah, I  _ know _ . But for most people, Logan,  _ knowing _ doesn’t stop the emotions,” Virgil said, bitterly, and immediately regretted it as a fraction of hurt registered on Logan’s face.

“Would it help if I… called you by a different name?” Logan proposed, redirecting the conversation. “I know you’ve still been searching for one, but I’m reminded of that painting you did, that you put in the living room—I think V is a fine name. Vee.”

Virgil— _ Vee _ —smiled, slowly and hesitantly. “Yeah—yeah. That works. I like that. Thank you. I’m just glad you’re not… mad at me, or something.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Logan said, logically, as always. Vee stayed quiet. “Thomas has many dear friends that do not identify as male or female. Gender is not meant to be confined—humans tend to think it is, but in nature we see so many examples of variety and things that don’t conform to the binary, so it’s only  _ logical _ that humans would follow the same patterns. I didn’t wish to push you in order to yell at you, I simply wish to help.”

“Right,” Vee replied. They kept using the name in their head;  _ Vee. _ It fit so perfectly, to them. “Isn’t—don’t you find it weird that Thomas is male, but I’m… not?”

“We all have different eye colors,” Logan pointed out. “Different sexualities, mostly, and so gender correlating to that isn’t too unusual. Some of us, but not all, have different disorders—anxiety,” Vee ducked their head, “depression, et cetera.”

“Different Hogwarts houses,” Vee said, smiling a little bit.

“Different Hogwarts houses,” Logan agreed, and his arm around Vee relaxed, and Vee leaned into him a little more, until they were practically cuddling. “When are you going to tell the others?”

Vee grimaced. “Never would be preferable.” Logan remained quiet, for a second. Vee didn’t mean it; Logan knew that Vee didn’t mean it. But they knew Logan felt bad for pushing earlier, even if he wouldn’t say it. “But,” Vee amended, slowly. “I think… I think I’d rather do it when everyone’s together, because doing it one at a time would be more than torture.”

Logan made a noise of agreement. He moved to get up, and Vee made a noise of discomfort, pulling him back down. “Vir—Vee.”

“Stay with me,” Vee mumbled, pulling him down to a lying position. “I’m sleepy.”

“Vee, it’s 2 pm,” Logan said, but affection colored his tone, and they ended up lying next to each other. Vee’s thoughts were no longer racing, for once, and instead certainty colored every part of his mind. They could do this. They were accepted. They were loved.

  
  


Of course, their brain could only leave them alone for so long, seeing as they  _ were _ the epitome of anxiety, so on the planned day of telling them, instead of gathering them, they just ended up outside of Logan’s door. Logan’s door, like Patton’s, was generally always open—something about air circulation and he didn’t have anything to hide, anyway. (Patton’s reason was more like “hugs!” or something). Vee rapped on the doorframe.

Logan’s room was nice. It was cleaner than Vee’s, for sure, and instead of being dark, it was sleek and spaced out, with the windows open for natural lighting. There were three bookshelves laden with books, Logan’s favorites picked out from all of the books Thomas has ever read. There were also stacks of notebooks in neat piles, things that Logan had written. There were cardboard boxes labeled with every subject Thomas had studied, even trivial little fun facts Thomas had quickly forgotten. Logan’s desk was mostly clean, only decorated with a single solved Rubik’s cube, an hourglass, and a few scattered notebooks.

Logan glanced up from where he was writing something in one of the said notebooks. He glanced back down, finished a sentence, and shut the book. “Hello, Vi— Vee. Vee, what can I do for you?”

The new name was odd, honestly, but it still made Vee feel nice and fuzzy inside, so they assumed it just needed some getting used to. “I just—Thomas was planning on filming a video today, right?”

Logan checked the calendar on the wall near him. “That is correct.”

“I was wondering if I could like… tell everyone today, while we’re all together,” Vee continued, biting at the corner of their mouth. “Not that I… it’s not that I need your permission, I just want to ask—is that a good idea? Should I tell the other sides first and then Thomas later? What’s the best course of action here?”

“Hmm…” Logan pondered, tapping the pen he was previously writing with against the table. “Earlier, you said that it would be easier to do it in front of everyone, correct? The same way you did your original name reveal. Alternatively, if you tell the other sides first, they can back you up when you do end up telling Thomas.”

Vee tapped their fingers on the frame. Despite not being fully in the room, Logan’s room still always succeeded in slowing their thoughts, making them more rational and easily able to consider their other options. “I think… I think I’m going to do it all at once. It’ll make it easier.”

Logan shrugged. “If you wish. It’s your decision. I will support any choice you make.”

“Thanks, Logan,” Vee said, smiling a little bit. “And, um…” Vee faltered. “Could you… could you help me do my makeup? Just for like… a second opinion.”

Logan looked uncomfortable. “That’s not really my forte, but I can attempt to the best of my ability, which I cannot say is very much.”

“That’s enough,” Vee said, smiling bigger now. “Thank you, Logan.”

  
  


Vee felt the familiar tug of Thomas’s call several hours later. After finishing their makeup—very purple-themed, purple eyeshadow and purple lipstick being the most prominent—they had assumed a position on their bed, the bedsheets haphazardly tossed off of their legs, blasting music through their headphones. They hadn’t moved for the next hour, apparently.

Vee closed their eyes and popped in and out, and when they opened their eyes, all the other sides were all gathered in their usual filming place. Roman and Logan were arguing over something, but stopped when they appeared; Logan looking carefully blank, Roman’s jaw dropping dramatically, and Patton just clapped his hands together. Thomas also immediately noticed, and his eyes widened. Vee tensed, automatically preparing for the worst.  _ Oh god. This was a bad idea _ .

“Holy flying monkeys,” Roman said, breaking the silence. “ _ That’s _ a look.”

“Flying monkeys?” Vee said, raising an eyebrow. Roman didn’t bother dignifying that with a response, and rather huffed in annoyance.

“It’s… interesting,” Thomas said, delicately, and everyone glanced at him. Virgil’s heart sank. “Is there any particular reason for this sudden makeover, Virge?”  _ Virge. Virgil _ . Vee fidgeted. They glanced over to Logan who nodded, slightly.

The boost of confidence from Logan was probably the only thing that managed to propel them to say the next thing they said. “I wanted… to tell you something. All of you, at once, so it was easier to tell you, like… like my name. But… about my name—” Vee glanced, once again, at Logan, who gestured with his hand to continue. “I—I want to be called. Something different? Vee. Like—I guess like the letter. I don’t know.” They were frustrated with the way they were tripping over their words, but at least it was out there. There was no going back now.

“Did you not like your old name?” Patton asked, concerned. “I think it’s a nice name, I know Roman said some things when you first told us, but he didn’t mean them—”

“No, no,” Vee said, quickly, frustrated. “It’s not that—I’m… I think I’m… I—”  _ Say it. Just  _ say  _ it _ . “I’m nonbinary,” they blurted out, quickly. “Or maybe not. I don’t know. But I don’t like… I don’t like being called male. I figured that out recently, ever since… ever since you guys started calling me by my name. I hate it.”

Patton sucked in a breath in a way that Vee knew meant he was about to apologize a hundred times, but thankfully, Thomas unintentionally cut him off. “Wait. You guys can have different genders than I do?” Maybe not thankfully, after all. Vee’s heart dropped another inch, and their stomach churned. “How does that work?”

“I don’t know,” Vee muttered, and Thomas caught on.

“Oh! No, I’m not—I accept you fully, Vir—Vee! Vee. I don’t know why you didn’t tell us earlier, honestly, but I’m glad you did.”

“Yes, of course,” Logan interjected. “But as for your question, Thomas—as far as I know, our sexualities vary, too, the same way Vee’s gender differs from yours. For example, you are gay—homosexual, and homoromantic. The rest of us might not be the same way. I, for example—” Logan snapped his fingers, and his tie changed, the colors of the ace flag, fringed in Logan’s customary dark blue. “Am asexual.”

Vee was mildly surprised—they didn’t know Logan had this prepared, and certainly didn’t know that about Logan, either. “Cool,” they ended up saying in response. “I don’t… have any flag, yet, seeing as I don’t really know what—who I am.”

“And that’s perfectly fine,” Thomas said. “I spent a while figuring myself out, and it makes sense that you would too. There’s no rush.”

“What he said, kiddo,” Patton smiled. “You could’ve told us sooner, though! None of us our here to judge, and I feel bad for misgendering you for so long. And since I never pass up a chance to play dress up—” he clapped, excitedly, and the cat hoodie around his shoulders switched out for a pink-and-yellow flag, tying around his shoulders in a way that made his shirt match up to make the pan flag. “Ta-da! Pan!”

“And I’m bisexual,” Roman declared, and his sash shimmered, replaced with pink, purple, and blue, the patches on his shoulders replaced with similarly colored hearts. “How’s that, Edgelord? Get it? Because your eyeliner—okay, not my best. Not on my top game today.”

Vee rolled their eyes, but a smile pried at their lips. “Looks fine.”

“Well,” Thomas said. “This was interesting. However, I’m thinking we film on a different day. Seems like there’s a lot going on, and the viewers might ask questions if your outfits all suddenly changed up. But I’m really glad you told us, Vee.”

Vee, not sure what else to do, just did a pathetic finger gun and sank out immediately, appearing back in the mind palace. It took a second, but the others appeared there too, one at a time.

Patton tackled them in a hug. “Oh, Vee! I’m so glad you told us,” he blubbered, and Roman made some comment too that Vee couldn’t make out over the warm emotions curling in their chest. They made eye contact with Logan over Patton’s shoulder and Logan smiled, a full one, and Vee… well, they felt safe. They felt loved. They felt accepted.

“I love you,” Vee whispered. “I love you all.”

**Author's Note:**

> yeah okay I hope you enjoyed! please leave a comment, they're my lifeblood. if you enjoyed I have another sander sides thing that's mostly finished that I could try to re-read through and finish that up, it's nearly double the length of this thing. I'm not nonbinary, as I stated in the first one; I'm just a lesbian. but I did ask my trans friends for Help so hopefully I didn't mess it up too badly? and I apologize if I did. I just have a lot of emotions about nonbinary!Virgil and I wanted to share them with you. I'm really sorry if I messed up pronouns at any point in this story, it was mostly written at 3 in the morning. I apologize for not posting for two years. anyway follow my social medias and okay bye
> 
> tumblr: princess-charmingx  
> twitter: xprincesscharmx  
> instagram: absolutelyno.t


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